Manteno, IL
by Nini8519
Summary: Takes place after Asylum in Season 1. Dean and Sam find themselves investigating mysterious deaths at another mental institution. With previous events still fresh in their minds, they hope to put the past behind and try to solve the case staying alive.


Back to Illinois

_Enjoy guys. Manteno was a real mental institution in Illinois near Chicago. When I was younger, my volleyball team played a few tournaments there in the actual gym. During our breaks, we would sneak around to the abandoned buildings. It was so creepy! There is an urban legend that bodies were found in the surrounding cornfields, but pretty much I'm making up this story!!_

_Takes place after Asylum in Season 1._

"Arghh, I hate this time of the year," Dean griped as he stormed out of the bar practically slamming the door in Sam's face.

"What's your problem, we won 200!" Sam responded to Dean's pessimistic comment following his brother who was now almost running off to the car in the nearby lot.

Dean stopped his frantic pace and turned back towards Sam carefully frustrated with the events occurring that evening. "Well, I won 200, you sat there looking pretty. I was so hot tonight and kept winning, but nobody wanted to keep playing me. This time sucks because people are all broke from the Christmas season. No one wants to spend any money," Dean ranted as he approached his beloved Impala with Sam slowly trailing behind.

"Maybe you should make a New Year's resolution to find a way to make money easier," Sam smirked as he approached the passenger's door of the car.

"Maybe you should shut the hell up. You're the damn college boy. You should be able to hook me up with all types of scams to make money. Instead, you sit on your ass and criticize me," Dean answered as he glared at Sam.

Sam's smirking expression slowly faded to a look of despair as he put his hands up in the air as in an expression of defeat. "Whoa, I was just joking, Dean."

Dean's look of anger on his face quickly turned to one of regret. "Sorry Sam, it is just been so hard to get money lately. I'm afraid that I might have to resort to desperate measures. I'm thinking about becoming a stripper, Devilish Dean and his sidekick, Sassy Sammy," Dean joked.

"Oh god. Please save me. Let's just get in the car and find a motel for the night," Sam replied as he opened the door and quickly sat into the passenger's seat leaving Dean babbling outside the car.

"What? There is nothing wrong with those names. I think they are cool," Dean replied having a hint of hurt in his tone. He quickly climbed into the car and started the engine.

"Where to tonight Dean?"

Switching the gears he turned to Sam, with a look of amusement in his face. "You're in luck Sammy boy. We're going on a little vacation." He turned his attention back to automobile proceeding to put it in reverse.

Sounding annoyed, Sam unenergetically inquired, "On vacation? Great." He plopped his head against the car seat.

Dean turned to Sam with a puppy-dog look on his face as he placed his right hand over his heart, "How you hurt me Sammy. I can't take it."

Sam reached over and smacked Dean in the back of his head. "Shut up loser."

"Sammy, my dear, we're going to the Aloha Motel," Dean sarcastically announced as his darted away from the dingy parking lot of the old bar.

Dean sat intensively staring at the computer glancing now and then at the muted television in the far corner of the moldy hotel room. "Some vacation spot," he mumbled to himself, but quickly turned back to the computer making side notes with a pen and pad of paper left by the oh so eloquent motel.

The bathroom door opened as Sam emerged bare chest and wearing nothing but a long blue towel around his waist. Dean turned to him and boyishly replied, "I should throw you a lea and you can give me a hoola dance."

Sam simply rolled his eyes, "In your dreams."

Dean took interest to this remark and questioned, "Speaking of your dreams, have you seen any new visions or premonitions?"

Shaking his head no, Sam walked over to a bag of his clothes, picking up certain items and smelling them until he found several pieces of attire suitable for him to wear, "No, I haven't had any dreams. It is weird. Usually, I'm plagued by hundreds of them."

"Well, maybe you're on low alert after the holiday season," Dean replied to Sam's comment in hopes of boosting his morale that his "special gift" wasn't a fluke even though Dean didn't like the idea of Sam being able to see the future leaving Dean with no ability.

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe I'm just stressed out," Sam sheepishly replied as he sat down on the floral bed attempting to put socks on his feet.

Dean got up from the puckish green chair and proceeded to stretch out his legs and arms. "Well yeah, but when aren't we stressed?"

Sam continued to put on his socks and looked up at Dean who was standing there looking at him. "I know, but…" Sam trailed off.

"No, buts Sam. Let's face it, we're always gonna be under a lot of stress, much more than normal. You can either let it get to you or suck it up. And I think it is time that you just deal with the fact that you're always going to be a loser for the rest of your life, stop trying to be cool like me," Dean replied with a hint of a smile on his face as he tried desperately to keep himself from a full out phase of laughter.

Sam grabbed the nearby paperback book on the chipped coffee table and threw it at Dean. Not meaning to throw it that hard, the corners of this book hit Dean directly in the center of his chest. Dean quickly brought up left hand up to the spot the book smacked him. Turning around so Sam could not see his expression of pain; he silently endured the painful ordeal. Sam jumped up and ran to Dean's side, "Oh my god. I didn't mean to hit you there. Oh, god. Dean, I'm sorry. I forgot that you're still sore from… you know…the incident at the asylum."

Dean with his back still turned against Sam pushed him away with his right arm as his left arm still remained on the sore spot on his chest. "I'm fine Sam. Just leave me alone." He didn't think that he would still be in pain after a month when Sam shot him in the Roosevelt asylum, but every morning he awoke and it felt like someone had sat on his chest all night long. It got better little by little every day, but getting hit by the edge of a book didn't help the situation. Sam interrupted Dean in his thoughts.

"Let me look at it," Sam stated as he tried to face Dean.

Dean's expressionless tone turned a little bitter, "What are you are doctor now? I'm fine Sam."

"Okay," Sam's voiced seemed to quiver like that of a 7 year old that has just been yelled at by his teacher. He walked back to the bed and sat down slowly not sure what to say or do next. He still couldn't believe that he shot his brother at such a close range with a shotgun. There hasn't been a single day that has passed without him thinking of what he did to Dean. As much as he told Dean that he didn't mean any of the things he said, he had thought of some of the remarks in the past. He did have a little resentment towards his older brother, but nothing for him to kill him. He loved Dean and everyday he tried to show it to Dean. He just hoped that Dean knew deep in his heart that Sam loved him very much and would do anything for him. Sam couldn't imagine what he would have done if Dean decided not to unload the gun. As much as Sam pretended to be strong, he knew he could never match up to the strength and power of his older brother. Sam knew that if he was ever killed that Dean would continue on. Of course he would be horrified, but he was a trooper like dad. He would bury Sam and storm on into the night avenging Sam's death in every way possible and not stopping until he was stopped dead in his tracks. Sam admired Dean for that. If Dean had died, especially because of Sam's doing, he knew he did not have that strength to carry on. Needless to say, he would have probably ended up killing himself by jumping off some bridge somewhere. The idea of Dean dead frightened Sam so much that he didn't know how to deal with it. Even though Dean was older, Sam always secretly wished that he would die first so he wouldn't have to go through the painful process. Maybe they would die together. Sam didn't know.

Dean's movement back to the computer snapped Sam out of his thought process. Sam looked up at Dean trying to read of any signs of pain in his face or movements. Sure Dean was incredible at masking his emotions that was clearly evident in the manner in which he played poker, but Sam just needed to see a sign that he was okay both physically and mentally. Dean caught notice of Sam's glare and shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he grabbed the notepad. His voice broke the awkward moment, "Well, I have a new destination."

Sam trying to clear his mind of all the painful memories he just was thinking expressed a great deal of interest in this new hunt, "Where?"

Dean seemed hesitant to respond. Sam quickly thought that they were going back home. This idea didn't bother Sam. He felt like he needed to talk to Missouri again. He needed to understand his connection and hopefully she could get a reading off of Dean to see if he was truly still mad at him. But quickly as he thought this, Dean replied, "Back to Illinois."

Sam's stomach dropped. Oh god. They have been traveling back and forth in the Midwest the past month or so, but Dean always made sure to avoid Illinois, whether it was subconsciously or intentional because of the emotional toll that hunt had on both of them. Sam didn't want Dean to know that this location was bothering him as well. "Okay, what is the story?" Sam didn't look the expression on Dean's face. He seemed too bothered by what he was thinking. Dean fumbled with the notepad and his hands seemed to shake as he debated what to say or do. Dean never lost his composure, especially when talking about a future case. He was all business when it came down to ghost hunting. Sam pondered about what they were searching to find or destroy.

It felt like an eternity of seconds that passed by before Dean replied, "To be more exact, we are going to Manteno, Illinois. It is about 40 miles south of Chicago. There has been a string of deaths in a surprisingly quiet town. It caught my attention when I was searching online. Apparently, a group of teenagers from Chicago went down there for some ghost hunting. When they didn't return the following day, they were found dead in the cornfields down in Manteno."

This didn't seem too shocking to Sam. They were city kids to begin with. Maybe something happened to them in the country that they weren't able to deal with. "What is so special about this place?"

Dean looked at him, "Well, I'm glad that you asked. The little town of Manteno used to be the site of Manteno Mental Health Center. It housed around 5,000 patients before it shut down for good in 1985."

Sam's heart seemed to jump out of his chest. They were going to visit another mental institution back in Illinois. One thing for sure, Sam would never want to live in Illinois. There were too many institutions and mental patients for his liking. He didn't like the feeling he had.

Dean didn't notice the distraught expression on Sam's face, he continued on with the background information about Manteno. "According to several reports, Manteno was shut down in 1985 because the state of Illinois didn't want to continue funding. They focused their efforts on smaller clinics to help the patients. However, other reports say that there was abuse of the patients. In the late 70s, federal investigators commented on the misuse of several patients and the danger in the structure of some of the buildings. They claimed it was unclean as well. There are many urban legends surrounding the hospital. Some claim people were electrocuted to death in an electric chair. Other patients would mysteriously disappear and reappear days later dead in the surrounding cornfields. Lobotomies and electro shock therapy were commonly used on the patients in efforts of helping them, but others say that doctors took their power too far and used these techniques in their own madness. Manteno also had a hard time containing its own patients. There were a record number of patients who broke out into the surrounding community trying to desperately get away from a "power" that tried to consume them. The incidents continue on and on. This seems to be a hot spot for paranormal activity. We have to check it out."

Sam still didn't know how to respond. He was shocked that Dean eagerly wanted to go back to Illinois, let alone another asylum. Sam continued to sit there with a puzzled look on his face until Dean broke his trance. "Sam, hello? What do you think?"

Sam snapped back to reality. "I think we should check it out. I'm still unsure of its connection. What has it been latent so long? I mean, it closed down back in 1985 and now its 2006. It's been dormant for 21 years? That doesn't make sense."

Dean appeared ready for this sort of question. He grabbed a single sheet of paper he had placed next to the computer. "Sammy, great minds think alike. Initially, I thought it was an accident. You know how city kids are, they go out into the country and get themselves killed by a wild bird or something, but I researched the surrounding area. Since 1985, the land making up Manteno Mental Center has relatively been untouched. Basically, it was abandoned, but never knocked down. Now, the area is starting to boom and new condos and housing developments have taken interest in the land. Some of the buildings on the outskirts of the hospital have already been knocked down. These were the houses of the doctors and nurses, but it seems like our ghosts know that their place of rest is coming to an end. There are a lot of buildings left including a morgue and a cemetery on the same plot. Or maybe it is this special power that the patients feared so greatly."

Sam still seemed hesitant about the idea. "We don't even know what we are hunting."

Annoyed by the reluctant plea of Sam, Dean harshly replied, "Well, frankly I don't feel like sitting around like we have for the past month walking on pins and needles. I'm over what happened at Roosevelt. Let's go and get some work done. Now, go pack up your stuff, we're gonna leave first thing in the morning." Dean stood up and walked over to the mirror glancing at himself as he ran his hands through his hair. At that moment, the image reminded Sam of his father. Dean looked tired and old in the mirror. Sam could almost feel his frustration and anger towards the situation, but deep down he was still hurt. Dean walked away from the mirror and began to pack his bag. He picked up a few articles of clothing and walked over to the bathroom. He turned back to Sam, "Do you need to come in here before I go take a shower?"

Still glancing at Dean, reminded him of his father. He didn't know why he thought this image was his father, but he replied, "No, I'm good." With this answer, Dean walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Sam walked over to his bed and sat down. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and pulled out a picture of Dean, his father, and himself when he was 7. Most kids have pictures with their father holding up fish or a baseball mitt, but they were not normal. In this picture, Dean proudly held up a demon's head. Sam couldn't remember which demon Dean killed, but he remembered how proud Dean and his father were. This was Dean's first important and by himself kill. Sam basked in Dean's glory and was proud to have him as an older brother and protector. This picture always brought a smile to Sam's face. He put it back inside his wallet and tossed it into his bad beside his bed. He suddenly felt extremely tired and turned off the light off quickly fading into bliss.

Dean looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. God, he looked old he thought to himself. The past month really took its toll on him. As much as he tried to make Sammy believe that he was unaffected by what happened at the asylum, he couldn't shake off the fact that his brother tried to kill him. He mentally prepared himself for the next hunt. He just hoped it could be a normal hunt without any eventful happenings. He stepped into the shower and tried to put his negative thoughts away. He just wanted to find his dad and wanted Sammy to be happy. He stood on under the hot water and hummed Metallica tunes to himself.

"_We are back where we started Dean. You're such a dumb asshole. I swear I should have killed you last time when I had the chance. You're still the delusional idiot groping around the country in order to find dad. Why don't you understand that he abandoned you because you're hopeless. You're a loser. Dad doesn't want to have to deal with a loser like you. I'll put you out of your misery because I have pity on you." Sam raised the sword that Dean had given him on his 18__th__ birthday. _

"_Sam stop! Please snap out of it," Dean pleaded with him as he frantically tried to untie the ropes which held him down in the chair. "You don't want to kill me. I'm your brother. Please!"_

"_Wah, wah, wah, wah," Sam screamed, "That is all I hear from you. Would you at least have some dignity the last few moments of your life! Goodbye Dean." Sam stepped behind Dean and with the swift of the sword he slit his throat. Satisfied that he had done the job right, he walked around to the front of Dean. However, he hadn't made the cut too deeply for instant death. Dean's eyes were wide of shock from the impeding doom and the fact that Sam had slit his throat with a present from him. Sam looked into his eyes and realized his fatal flaw. Oh god, he killed his brother and the horror consume him as Dean's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his head fell forward._

Sam jolted awake. Not another dream. This time it was different. He felt like it was another premonition or something. It was too late. He was already in the Impala and Dean had been driving for several hours. He couldn't tell him to turn back.

"Whoa, there buddy. Another bad dream?" Dean asked. He turned to face Sam with a concerned look on his face, "Did you have a premonition?"

Sam who still was trying to fully awake in the darkness of the car shook his head, "No, no premonition. It was just a dream." He turned and looked at Dean. Dean didn't believe what Sam had just said due to the uncertainty in his voice. He could read people's faces like no other, one of the many reasons why he excelled in poker.

"Bullshit, Sam," still glaring at the younger brother. Sam couldn't maintain eye contact so he looked up at the pitch black road. A figure moving in the distance caught his attention. He couldn't tell if it was just his eyes playing a trick on his or whether it was a creature of some sort. He brained quickly fired the correct response. It was a deer.

"Dean, look out!" Startled by the sudden onset of Sam's panicked cry, he looked back at the road to see a deer practically in front of his car. He swerved to the right narrowly missing the enormous creature. The car skidded to the oncoming lane, but thankfully there was no other traffic on the road tonight. Dean managed to catch his breath and looked down at his shaking hand. He didn't feel right. He quickly turned his attention to Sam.

"Sam, are you okay?" He quietly asked. Glaring at his brother, who continued to look down at his feet. Sam's response didn't come soon enough. "Sam?"

Sam picked up his head and met Dean's eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine Dean." He felt too shaken by the whole incident. He felt like the deer was placed there. He turned around in his seat and looked out the back window to see the large creature, but it was gone.

Dean tried to make light of the situation as his regained his composure and once again started to drive the car. "How ironic would that be? He can kill all different types of creatures, but then a stupid deer ends up killing both of us. That would be funny," Dean replied as he gave a forced laugh at the end of his statement.

"Yeah, funny," Sam dryly replied. Something didn't feel right. It closed his eyes and hoped that his dreams could bring more clues.

Later that night, Dean and Sam finally arrived at their destination. They stayed in a nearby hotel and got some rest. Early the next morning, Dean had laid out the scenario. "Okay, so we are gonna be private investigators when we go to the crime scene."

"Private investigators?" Sam inquired.

"Yes, one of the teenagers killed was the son of some big politician up in Chicago. I don't think the local law enforcement is going to question some well-known national guy about two investigators into his son's death."

"Okay, that makes sense."

"Alright, Sam let's go investigate our area." Dean and Sam walked out the door to the car.

Minutes into their driving, another event occurred. Sam was sitting in the passenger's seat annoyed by the fact he heard the same dumb song blaring over the car's speakers several hours ago and several hours before that when suddenly he slammed into the side of the door as the car swerved. The car narrowly missed oncoming traffic as Dean grabbed the wheel and turned it into the opposite direction sending the entire car into a small ditch. "God damnit!" Dean screamed.

Sam questioned, "What happened?"

"I think a tire blew out. Son of a…" Dean quickly put the car in park and angrily opened his door and went outside to investigate. Sam couldn't help as if something was trying to warn them. Trying to keep them from pursuing this case. He opened his door and went outside to help Dean out. Sure enough Dean was kicking and swearing over the driver's side rear tire. It had blown out. "Sam, get me the spare tire and jack out of the trunk." Sam walked over to the trunk and obtained the necessary items, which he brought to Dean. Dean started working on the tire as Sam stood there glancing around at the landscape.

"Do you need help?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm fine. I'll have it done in a few minutes," Dean replied with a hint of madness in his voice, but probably due to the fact that his luck had being running short this past days. After a few minutes of Dean's swearing and cussing, he successfully changed the tire. "Shit, now I'm all dirty," he hastily replied as his looked down at his clothes.

"We could go back to the motel so you can change," Sam asked.

"No, it's okay. Plus, we are behind schedule. I have a towel in the trunk." Dean walked over to the already open trunk and threw the jack in as he pulled out a towel and proceeded to wipe off the dirt and oil that he could.

"We sure have bad luck. Maybe it is an omen or something."

"Sam, shut up. It is nothing. Now, get in the car so we can continue on." Dean threw the towel back in the trunk and walked over to the driver's side.

"I'm still suspicious." Sam walked over to the passenger's side and got into the car.


End file.
